Ben Gardner and his boat, Flicka

 

Matt Hooper is gliding into the dockside, and Ben throws him

a line to help make fast as he moors. It's a small island of

courtesy in an otherwise discourteous mob. Hooper nods

politely as he ties his boat up and steps onto the dock.

 

HOOPER

Hello.

 

GARDNER

Hello, back.

 

He's standing near where Brody is finishing after his

encounter with the chummers.

 

Brody approaches Ben Gardner.

 

BRODY

You going out too, Ben?

 

GARDNER

Might give it a try. That three

thousand bounty beats working for a

living.

(yells to his Mate)

We ready?

 

The Mate nods "Yes" and starts to prepare to get under way.

 

Ben and his Mate move away from the dock, headed towards the

channel and the open sea leaving Felix and Pratt to scamper

around the dock looking for another ride.

 

ANOTHER DOCK AREA, CLOSE BY

 

A particularly awkward moment between a small sailboat and a

couple of powerboats. The sailboat is trying to hoist sail

to make it away from the pier under sail, a real yachtsman's

conceit, since Hornblower himself probably couldn't navigate

through this mess. Brody, a landlubber for sure, is trying

to direct traffic to untangle this new mess.

 

BRODY

Just back up! No, the other way! Cut

it to your left! Your other left!

The big boat, your front end is out

way too far. Little boat, stay still!

 

Amidst all this, we can hear the angry shouts of the entangled

crews.

 

SKIPPER 1 (THE SAILBOAT)

Dammit, a vessel under sail has the

right of way!

 

SKIPPER 2 (MOTORBOAT)

You schmuck, you ain't under sail,

you're goddam drifting!

 

HOOPER

(stepping in to help)

Ahoy, sail! You got an oar? Well,

scull it out!

 

SAILBOAT SKIPPER

Tell that stinkpotter to belay!

 

MOTORBOAT SKIPPER

Tell that ragsetter I'm going to

poke him in the snoot!

 

HOOPER

Just cast off in turn and make for

the channel, OK?

 

BRODY

Thanks.

 

Brody starts back towards the shore, Hooper is by his side.

 

HOOPER

Excuse me, I wonder if you could

tell me...

 

Before he can finish, Brody spots something on shore that

moves him to shout to his deputy.

 

HOOPER

(noticing something)

Is that dynamite?

 

Brody looks, and stops by a boat that's about to cast off.

 

He holds out his hand.

 

BRODY

If that's dynamite, give it here, or

don't leave port.

 

MAN

Aw, c'mon, it's just fireworks. Sharks

like fireworks, it attracts them.

 

BRODY

Hand it over.

 

The man passes Brody a cigar box filled with dynamite sticks.

 

Brody tucks the dynamite under his arm, and continues down

the pier. Hooper is still with him.

 

All around them are two distinctly different breeds; the

quiet pros, like Ben Gardner, in well-worn, comfortable

clothes, with efficient, sensible gear, and the amateur

crazies, with all manner of weapons and impractical, silly

tourist clothing.

 

INT. DOCK SHED - DAY

 

Brody is on the phone, talking to his office, trying to get

Hendricks' attention. He throws a handful of washers at the

window.

 

HOOPER

There's a fantail launch out there

that won't make it beyond the

breakwater.

 

BRODY

You're tellin' me. I swear, this

town has gone crazy.

 

HOOPER

Officer, I wonder if you could tell

me where I could find Chief Brody?

 

BRODY

Who are you?

 

HOOPER

Hooper, Matt Hooper. From the

Oceanographic Institute.

(holds out his hand)

 

EXTERIOR - OCEAN - DAY

 

Ben Gardner's boat is in the lead with Gardner's shouting

derisive comments at the crowd headed out from land. The

armada is spread out and moving in a ragged circle, fifteen

boats in all. One man heaves cherry bombs into the water. A

smaller boat going in the opposite direction offers us

Barwood, forking spaghetti leftovers into the ocean while

his friend pours out a bottle of ketchup.

 

A speedboat chugs by, one of the occupants reading

instructions aloud from a book entitled "Sharks - East Coast,

Vol. I."

 

boatload of impoverished scallop fishermen throw a net

overboard, full of gaps and split ends. The professionals

look professional, but the landlubbers out for the $3000

make it impossible for everybody. Collisions are barely

averted.

 

THE RUBE GOLDBERG ERROR

 

The Out-of-Towner in a small boat is bent over in a life and

 

death struggle, his rod in a tight arc. His buddy leaps across

to lend a hand.

 

Twenty yards away in another boat the same struggle ensues.

 

This time it's the overloaded boat with the poor scallop

fishermen. Shouts of I'M ON! DIG IN! STRIKE! Then a tangle

of tackle springs from the water. They have hooked each other.

 

Joy turns to swearing. Arnold Felix stands up to applaud

the mishap, while his buddy Pratt takes careful aim with his

Remington 1100 12-gauge and blasts at the tackle as if it

were a clay pigeon. The tangle explodes --

 

Both the Out-of-Towners and the Scallop Fisherman falls over

backward --

 

ANGLE - HARRY'S BOAT

 

Three men are aboard, one holding a rod which holds a fast

arc. A few yards off stern we see a triangular dorsal fin

crossing back and forth, struggling, jerking, the mighty

tail threshing. One man is screaming success, the other two

slapping the angler on the back.

 

CLOSE - PRATT AND FELIX

 

They spot it and sour.

 

PRATT

Well, get over there! He ain't caught

it yet!

 

The owner of Pratt's boat throws it forward and Pratt removes

a.45 automatic from the holster of his belt. He tests it,

firing once in the air. As they near the scene of the

struggle, eleven other boats begin converging, until --

 

HARRY'S BOAT

 

Everyone wants to get into the act. They are attacking the

 

threshing beast with all they've got. Pratt uses his

automatic, another blasts point blank with a shotgun. There

are occasional water ricochets and the bounty hunters duck

from time to time as bullets skip by. Finally, the shark

stops threshing.

 

FELIX AND PRATT

 

Their boat has moved close to the shark, closer than Harry's.

 

PRATT

(exultant)

Hand me that pole! Quick!

 

One of his party in the over-filled boat grabs a gaff and

leans out to grab the moribund shark. But Harry won't give

up the line, still reeling in.

 

HARRY

Beat it! I hooked him!

 

PRATT

How's the family, Harry?

(to the man with gaff)

Go on and do it!

 

MAN WITH GAFF

We split down the middle?

 

Pratt nods reluctantly. The man swings, lodges the gaff and

hauls the shark up onto the gunwale. A paroxysm of cheers

from the surrounding boats. Smoke flares are fired into the

air.

 

HARRY

(a tug-of-war)

Let go my shark!

 

It is a ten-foot tiger, and what a mess -- splattered with

bullet punctures, gashes, bleeding from several orifices.

But it is not dead -- it kicks back to life and threatens to

capsize the boat. Pratt panics and fires six times with his

.45. The bullets pierce the shark's head, pass through, and

split the fiberglass hull through which a flood of water

rises. Everybody stands up as the boat slips beneath them.

 

INT. MORGUE - DAY

 

The Amity Morgue is also the Amity Funeral Home, a Victorian

house that normally serves as the community's mortuary. The

Coroner, a professional small-town GP, is standing by as

Hooper is speaking into a sophisticated cassette recorder

with a headpiece that leaves his hands free for measurement

with a calibrator or calipers.

 

BRODY

Let's show Mr. Hooper our accident.

 

With a shrug, the Coroner slides open the drawer.

 

CLOSE ON HOOPER

 

He is looking down as the drawer slides past him, still matter-

of-fact, turning on his recorder.

 

HOOPER

Victim One, identified as Christine

Watkins, female Caucasian...

 

The sheet has just been lifted, and Hooper stares down at

the lump on the slab. He stops, turns off his recorder as

emotions wage war with his senses. Rationality wins, and he

turns on the recorder again.

 

HOOPER

...height and weight may only be

estimated from partial remains. Torso

severed in mid-thorax, eviscerated

with no major organs remaining. May

I have a drink of water? Right arm

severed above the elbow with massive

tissue loss from upper musculature.

Portions of denuded bone remaining.

(tense, to Brody)

-- did you notify the coast guard?

 

BRODY

No, it was local jurisdiction.

 

HOOPER

Left arm, head, shoulders, sternum

and portions of ribcage intact.

(to Brody)

Please don't smoke. With minor post-

mortem lacerations and abrasions.

Bite marks indicate typical non-frenzy

feeding pattern of large squali,

possibly carchaninus lonimanus, or

isurus glaucas. Gross tissue loss

and post-mortem erosion of bite

surfaces prevent detailed analysis;

however, teeth and jaws of the

attacking squali must be considered

above average for these waters.

(to Brody again)

-- Did you go out in a boat and look

around?

 

BRODY

No, we just checked the beach...

 

HOOPER

(turns off the recorder)

It wasn't an 'accident,' it wasn't a

boat propeller, or a coral reef, or

Jack the Ripper. It was a shark. It

was a shark.

 

EXT. DOCK AREA - DAY

 

We open close on ugly, open shark's jaws, still oozing blood

and gore. As the shark is hoisted up into the air on a gin-

pole hoist dockside, Meadows is seen passing with his

secretary and a photographer from the Amity Gazette. A crowd

of returning fishermen from the Armada and townspeople are

gathering around the fish as it is hoisted tail-up into the

classic sports fisherman's trophy shot.

 

MEADOWS

Ginny, get this out on the state

wire to AP and UPI in Boston and New

York. Have one of them pick it up

for the national and call Dave Axelrod

in New York and tell him this is

from me and he owes me one... let's

get a picture.

 

As he and the photographer turn to mob, we see Hooper and

Brody arriving from the morgue. Hooper immediately heads

towards the shark, while Brody pauses and we see a look of

relief and delight cross his features.

 

HOOPER

Well, if one man can catch a fish in

50 days, then I guess 50 of these

bozos can catch a fish in one day --

beginner's luck.

 

BRODY

(crossing to men around

shark)

You did it! Did Ben Gardner catch

this?

 

Men ad lib "No, I caught it..." "I hooked him," etc.

 

MEADOWS

Okay, everybody, I want to get a

picture for the paper -- could

everyone clear out of the way?

 

He continues to call directions and move people out of the

way to set up his shot. Hooper is measuring the shark.

 

MEADOWS

Could you get out of the shot, young

man?

 

HOOPER

Who, me? Okay...

(he drifts off)

 

The men (Felix, Pratt, et al) get Brody to join them in the

shot. The whole town and the Armada fishermen all line up in

a classic "high school" graduating class shot with the

victorious fishermen kneeling in front, and the rest of the

Armada and Townspeople arranged behind them. Hendricks hold

up the "Beach Closed" sign in ironic victory.